You know how sometimes when you come in on the end of a conversation you don’t actually pick up on the thread of the topic so well? That happened to me today.
A girl at work was chatting to a customer while she saw to his banking needs.
“We don’t use the F word here,” she said to him as I passed by.
Odd thing to say, I thought. I wonder if he was being rude or if they were talking about work protocols. He seemed like an alright sort of guy, and there was no hint of animosity between them. Never one to censor my words I jumped in.
“We say intercourse instead,” I told the customer.
Both Kimmy and her customer continued to stare at me for what became an awkward amount of time. They mustn’t have heard me properly, I thought.
“We don’t say the F word, we say intercourse,” I said helpfully. Thinking this time, for sure, I’d elicit a snicker. I got more than a snicker, I can tell you. But the joke was on me.
“Actually, the F word we were talking about was FLOODS,” said Kimmy.
Oops.
